Mending Of A Soul
by Casey Toh
Summary: When Tim is hurt and goes into a coma, Bruce blames himself for it. Will a mother who has just lost her child be able to convince Batman of something he has deluded himself for years?


Disclaimer: Batman and all related characters and copyrights of DC Comics. No intentional copyright infringement is 

intended through their use.

Author's note: I don't know how this piece is (personally think that it's terrible), but thought that I would try my hand at it. 

                                                    **Mending Of A Soul******

                                                                              By Casey Toh

~ Forgiveness is the answer to the child's dream of a miracle by which what is broken is made whole again, what is soiled is again made clean. ~ Dag Hammarskjold

   "Hey, who taught you that move?" A teen in a brightly clad suit with matching boots and gloves mocked. "Your grandmother?"

   "I'm gonna knock your head right off your neck when I get my hands on you, kid," the man trying to attack the teen 

wheezed.

   "Uh-uh." Robin back flipped, his boots catching the man in the chin and sending him staggering a few steps backwards.

"Can't catch me!"

   Batman, who was across the room, chanced a glance at his protégé. "Stop fooling around." His gloved hand shot out

and broke a man's nose.

   "Okay, Batman!" Robin sang back.

   The Dark Knight snorted and spun to defend himself against three men. As he took down the third, his honed instincts 

alerted him to turn...just in time to see a heavily built man charge out of nowhere.

   His target was obvious.

   "Robin!"

   The Boy Wonder turned too late. A crowbar cracked against his ribs heavily, and was followed by a hit to his temple.

   Robin staggered backwards, dazed, hit a wall and slid down against it, rivers of blood flowing down his face from near 

his hairline.

   Batman was already in action before his partner even went down, growling and hitting the man with a savagery he 

himself did not feel.

   "B-Batman." The weak voice made him stop, and went over to the teen.

   "Don't worry, kid," he whispered and lifted the boy up with uncharacteristic gentleness. "I'll get you to Leslie's."

   He only hoped that it would be in time.

***

   Robin had been unconscious by the time the Batmobile roared into the Batcave. Leslie and Alfred had placed the boy on

a gurney carefully and whisked him off for the doctor to examine, leaving Batman pacing in front of the Batcomputer.

   Alfred found his employer still waiting after almost two hours. "Master Bruce, you really should take a rest."

   Bruce Wayne shook his head, his expression and posture showing just how exhausted but worried he was. His Batman 

cowl hung limply behind him. "I won't rest until I know Tim is all right."

   Knowing that it was useless trying to talk him out of it, Alfred left Bruce to check on how Leslie Thompkins was doing.

   It felt like ages before the elderly woman came out. Her rubber gloves were bloodstained and it made Bruce's mind reel. __

_Tim. So much blood._

   Leslie's features were grim. "The verdict isn't good, Bruce. Tim suffered three cracked ribs. There's a blood clot in his 

brain and he's in a coma. I don't know when he'd come to."

  _Tim in a coma. Tim in a coma. Don't know when he'd wake up._ Nothing else registered.

   "Bruce, are you all right?" Leslie's voice was laced with concern.

   "I'll--be...fine." He brushed her hand away. "I'll be fine."

***

   He lay down and closed his eyes, but he was not resting. He could not sleep, could not even get his mind to calm down. 

   _Tim. Coma. Tim. Coma. Don't know when he'd wake up. Tim in a coma._

   Images came.

   Middle East. Jason. A woman. Fire. Explosion. Thrown a distance away. Himself shouting out. Jason gone…Joker.

   Bruce jerked upright, body dotted with perspiration, breathing heavily.

   No. Not Joker. A man—a simple criminal who had gotten lucky.

   A huge bat, coming for him. The bat. Bruce frowned, as if really seeing it there. He was it; it was him.

   He was scared of it. Ran. It had been silent before. Now it spoke.

   "Revenge."

   _Revenge. Revenge._ The words sang in his head.

   They had taken Tim away, and now they shall pay.

***

   The phones in the manor rang, filling the whole house with their noise. Alfred permitted himself a little frown as he 

reached for the nearest phone. "Wayne Manor. How may I help you?"

   "Alfred! Is Tim okay?" The words came in a rush.

   The butler felt a sense of relief. "Master Dick, I'm glad you called. Master Tim is still…unconscious."

   There was silence at the other end for a little while before Dick Grayson spoke again, his voice somewhat quieter. "How 

is he?"

   Alfred didn't need to ask who the 'he' was. "Master Bruce is…not taking this very well."

   Dick heard the unvoiced plea. "I'll be right over from Bludhaven, Alfred."

   The elderly gentleman smiled. "Thank you for easing an old man's worries, young sir."

   He could almost see the grin at the other end. "No probs Al."

***

   A shadow sat atop a stone gargoyle jutting out from the roof of the Gotham Library, unmoving. 

   There was a soft beep and his wrist-comm. Vibrated. He answered it. "Yeah?"

   "Dick!" It was a woman's voice. "Have you found him?"

   "Not yet, Babs." Nightwing smiled softly at the thought of Barbara Gordon's beautiful face, who was known to the 

superhero and criminal communities as Oracle. "But I did find some of the handiworks he left behind." He winced 

at the memories of those. 

   "It isn't pretty, huh?" Barbara's tone was understanding.

   "Yeah." Nightwing scanned around some more, and thought he saw some movement four blocks away. "Hey Babs, 

gotta go. Thought I saw something."

   "Be careful, Dick."

   "Yeah. Yeah."

***

   "Get away from me!" The man's eyes were wide with fear as he stared at the advancing entity. His eyes shot wildly to 

see if he could call for any of his partners to help. Only their unconscious bodies all over the place greeted him.

   "Help!" The man screamed. Oh God! If someone could stop that man, he'd go and turn himself in. "Somebody!"

   Batman was towering right over the man when a gloved hand landed on his shoulder, spinning him around.

   "Stop this now, Batman," Nightwing entreated.

   "Get—lost." The Dark Knight's teeth grinded together.

   "I won't until you stop this."

   Batman sensed a slight movement behind him and he moved his arm in a back-fist that left the man joining his

accomplices.

   He glowered at the younger vigilante and threw his hand off. "I told you to get lost."

   And he was gone, just like that, leaving Nightwing gaping after nothing.

***

   Commissioner James Gordon took a sip of his aromatic black coffee, and lowered the cup not too far from his nose to 

inhale its fragrance.

   The rippling black surface caught a black-clad figure entering from the window. He smiled slightly. This was the first time 

he had known when any of them came in. _Maybe I should keep this trick so that those two kids won't give me heart_

_attacks every time._

   "Commish."

   Gordon set his cup down carefully and turned. "Hey, kid."

   Nightwing's mouth was set in a worried line. He didn't even notice that Gordon didn't jump when he had entered.

   The older man instantly turned serious. "It's about Batman, isn't it?"

   Nightwing nodded. "I don't know what to do about him."

   "How's the kid?"

   "Robin's still…in a coma," the vigilante muttered.

   Gordon sighed. He knew exactly what Batman was going through. He had wanted to torture the Joker slowly until he

died when the madman had paralyzed his Barbara…and when he had killed his wife during No Man's Land.

   "You have to let him ride through this one himself. From what I know, he has not come close to killing anyone even 

at this point, so just leave him alone."

   "Yeah." Nightwing crouched on the windowsill. "Yeah, maybe I should. Thanks Commish."

   Gordon sat back down, certain that he would be alone soon.

***

   Bruce took the boy's hand and thumbed it. _Please_, he prayed. _Don't let it be like the last time…don't let Tim be_

_another Jason._

   The fight scene replayed itself in his mind. He had been sloppy, that's why he couldn't stop the man from hurting Tim.

   The explosion. He hadn't been able to save Jason either.

   His parents. He had wanted to go to the movies that night. Zorro. He had insisted on watching it. That's why Mom and

Dad had died—because of Zorro.

   All of them his loved ones. All of them dead.

   And he wasn't able to save them.

***

   "Master Bruce, would you care for some tuna sandwich?" Alfred held out a plate of sandwiches, knowing that the 

younger man wouldn't eat, but he had to try.

   "No." Bruce reached behind him and pulled the cowl over his head, feeling the material fit snugly over his features. As 

always, he was pleased with the transformation from Wayne to Batman. "Thank you, Alfred."

   "Perhaps I'll take those to Miss Gordon then."

   "Do that." The man strode to his turbocharged Batmobile. "And don't stay up."

   "I most certainly would not, sir."

***

   A soft chime came from Barbara Gordon's labtop and she answered the call. A small vid-window opened in the center 

of the screen to show the masked features of Dick Grayson.

   "How's the kid?" He asked.

   "Still the same," the beautiful redheaded woman replied. "How's things at your end?"

   There was a weary sigh. "Not too good. He's getting even more violent."

   Barbara shook her head. "This is not good."

   "Yeah," Nightwing agreed.

   "Dick, don't worry. I'll be here with Tim."

   "Yeah. Okay."

***

   Batman glanced at his digital watch. It read 11:28pm. He was at Harrison district, making his usual nightly rounds. The

night was still and quiet except for a small number of people and vehicles.

   Lured by the fake peace, he allowed his thoughts to drift to Tim. It was all **his** fault. He shouldn't have made the 

same mistake he had made with Jason Todd. It was a wrong he had committed thrice.

   A screeching sound of tires on gravel and a woman's scream jarred him from his thoughts. With a snarl of anger at himself 

for dreaming, Batman moved.

   When he saw what he saw, he froze. A little girl on the ground. Blood. A car. A man. A woman crying.

   _That idiot must have taken the bend too fast_, Batman thought.

   He was too late. There was nothing he could do now. The man was already calling the cops.

   He had failed, again.

***

   Bruce ate his breakfast in front of the TV set. He said nothing of what he had seen the night before. Knowing Alfred and 

the rest, they'd try to convince him that it wasn't his fault.

   His mind was on Tim again. The hired doctor had said that the teen's condition was stable, but like all coma patients, 

he didn't know when Tim would wake up.

   Tim. In the end, it was all caused by him. It was his mistake. It was his—

   "—fault." A woman's voice from the news caught his attention. He saw that it was the mother from the night before. 

"My little girl just ran onto the road. There was no way the driver could've known." Tears spilled.

   "Mrs. Benson," Summer Gleason, the newscaster for Channel 28, asked, "would you be able to forgive the driver who

killed your child?"

   "Miss Gleason," the woman said, "if that man were here, I'll tell him that I forgive him."

   The murmurs of the crows intensified as a man walked through it. The regret was evident on his face. "Mrs. Benson, I'm 

so sorry."

   Carmen Benson reached out and hugged the man, both of them crying. The forgiveness was a bridge; a mother who had

lost her child and a man who was responsible for it.

   "My little Carla will be with God."

   Bruce hit the 'Mute" button. The camera continued recording the actions. Bruce focused in on Carmen's face.

   It held a pain he knew only just too well, but there was something else as well…something he had only glimpsed on 

occasions but which was alien to him.

   "Master Bruce, would you like more toast?" Alfred's voice said.

   Bruce clicked off the TV hurriedly. He didn't want any questions. "No, thanks Alfred. I'll be going off to the office now."

   And he went off, leaving Alfred wondering about what just happened.

***

   He was restless, much more so than in any of the days he had been Batman. None of the mental training and hundreds of relaxation techniques he had learnt were of any use.

   He knew what the cause was. Carmen Benson was it.

   He was trying to avoid the possibility of something his instincts urged him to do, but he knew that he had to do it.

   If not for Tim, then for himself.

***

   Nightwing saw Batman and followed his mentor at a distance. It was strange. Batman would normally be making his 

rounds at that point of the night, but he seemed intent on a place.

   The Dark Knight stopped, and he did too, making certain that his mentor did not see him.

***

   Batman landed on the fire escape ledge outside a particular apartment. The window was open, but he made no move to

enter.

   He hesitated, then knocked lightly on the glass pane.

   There were footsteps, and Carmen Benson came to the window. She gave a little gasp when she saw who her visitor

was.

   "I'm sorry to call on you so late, Mrs. Benson." Batman realized that his voice was too rough. "But I need to talk."

   "If you wish to." Carmen stepped back to let the vigilante enter.

   Batman did so, and stood politely beside the window. For once in his entire career, he was nervous, and it scared him

like hell. He almost turned to escape, but Carmen had already started speaking. "So what can I help you with—uh—

Batman?"

   "It's about your daughter." He calmed his voice and made it impersonal, even cold.

   The woman's face became slightly sadder. "What about her?"

   "I was there," Batman confessed. "I could have saved her. I was too slow. I was dreaming."

   Carmen shook her head. "There wasn't anything you could've done, Batman. I didn't watch Carla as well as I 

should've." She sighed. "But she's with the Lord now."

   He nodded. Somehow, the words he wanted to speak and the questions he wanted to ask would not come, so he turned

silently to leave.

   "You didn't come all the way here just to ask me about Carla, did you?"

   He froze. "No."

   Carmen placed a hand on the man's arm timidly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

   Batman faced her, examining her. "How can you…forgive that man?" He finally asked.

   "It was an accident, like I said." Even as she spoke, tears rolled freely down her face as she remembered her little girl. 

"An accident that was partly my fault. I didn't watch her well enough.

   "But now that the accident has happened, I have to let it go, even though it hurts a lot. Carla's with God now, and I can

be happy for that."

   "I'm an atheist."

   "I see." She sniffed for a few moments before getting herself under control and gazing at the Dark Knight.

   Strangely enough, Batman felt uncomfortable under her scrutiny. It was as if she was seeing straight into his soul. "I th—"

   "You've lost your loved ones, isn't it?" Carmen stated softly.

   His mind flashed involuntarily to that night, so many years ago, but the pain still un-dulled; that night where Zorro 

bore testament to his birth. "My parents were killed by a robber," he answered quietly.

   "And you think '_It was all my fault. If only I could've saved them. If only. If only._'"

   The Dark Knight nodded.

   Carmen stood up from where she sat so that she could maintain easier eye contact. "If you can, Batman, it's time to

forgive the robber that changed your life. But more importantly, it's time to forgive yourself, for all the things you didn't do,

for all the things you should've done."

   Her eyes turned unfocused for a moment as she spoke, more to herself than to him. "God only knows I've tried so hard

to forgive. I know that it was the best I could've done under that circumstance."

   _Forgive. Is she mad?_

   Carmen smiled. "I'm not mad."

   Batman was startled at how easily she had read him. "I'm sorry."

   "Just think about it, okay?"

   Batman nodded and handed her a slip of paper. "Call Bruce Wayne if you need anything. He's a friend of mine."

   "Thanks." She hesitated. "And Batman?" She stepped forward to hug him. "Thank you."

   The Dark Knight wrapped his arms around the older woman briefly, very much aware of how frail she physically was,

but how much stronger she was than him in other areas.

   He then stepped back. "Thank you, Mrs. Benson."

   The woman smiled as he left.

***

   The door to the room opened and Bruce entered Tim's room, sitting down beside the bed and running his hand through 

the boy's hair.

   "Tim," the older man began to the unresponsive body, "I just had a talk with Carmen Benson. She's a mother who has

recently lost her daughter.

   "The thing is: she forgives the man who killed her child. Tim…" He was silent for a moment. "I don't know if I can forgive 

the man who hurt you. I don't think I can forgive the man who killed my parents.

   "I don't think I can forgive myself for letting you get hurt."

   He clenched Tim's hand in his own and rested his forehead on them, suddenly exhausted.

***

   Outside the room, Dick and Alfred eavesdropped. They had sensed something different about Bruce as he returned.

   Dick, as Nightwing, had seen Batman spend almost an hour in a woman's apartment. He had been puzzled. His mentor

rarely made late night visits to anyone unless it was for business, and from what he knew, the woman was not a criminal.

   Now he knew why.

   "Let's leave Bruce to himself, Al." Dick grinned at the older man.

   Alfred nodded. They closed the door softly and went away.

***

   "Much as I hate to admit it, Carmen is right. I was a child then, and I did what I could. I never wanted for my parents to

be killed. I was too young to do anything."

   He gave a small laugh. "Carmen is a Christian. She believes her daughter is with God now. So maybe I should try praying

for you to wake up?"

   Tim's hand twitched, and Bruce stared at the boy in growing relief. "Come on, kid. You're a fighter. Get back."

   There was more twitching, and a small shudder, then Tim opened his eyes slowly. As soon as they fixed on Bruce, the

teen's face lit up.

   "He-y, been here long?" He croaked.

   The older man got up to pour a cup of water, helping the boy take in the cooling liquid.

   "Thanks." Tim wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.

   "Alfred would frown if he saw that," Bruce joked lightly.

   The teen gave a small snort of laughter. "Yeah, he would." He gazed at his mentor. "Are you gonna kick me out?"

   "No, Tim." Bruce smiled softly. "I'm not going to kick you out. Just be more careful in the future."

   "Man, I really like this new you, y'know?" Tim kidded.

   "I'm not going to stay like this forever, so you better appreciate it while you still can," Bruce half-jested.

   Tim laughed. "Okay."

   The older man shook his head in defeat. "Go to sleep, kid."

   "Yes sir!" Tim closed his eyes and relaxed back against the pillows, knowing that Bruce would be by his side till 

morning, watching over him.

~finis~


End file.
